your service. I saw Tyesternight, who has done for me what may

"To all my nights and days to come,

Give solely sovran sway and masterdom."

But I dare not hope, for fear of disappointment. I cannot be more explicit at present. But I have it under his own hand, that I am non-capacitated, (I cannot write it in-) for business. O joyous imbecility! Not a susurration of this to anybody! Mary's love.

C. LAMB.

The dream was realised-in April 1825, the "world-wearied clerk" went home for ever-with what delight has been told in the elaborate raptures of his "Superannuated Man," and in the letters already published. The following may be now added to these, illucidative of his too brief raptures.

TO MR. WORDSWORTH.

DEAR W.

I write post-haste to ensure a frank. Thanks for your hearty congratulations! I may

now date from the sixth week of my "Hegira, or Flight from Leadenhall." I have lived so much in it, that a summer seems already past; and 'tis but early May with you and other people. How I look down on the slaves and drudges of the world! Its inhabitants are a vast cotton-web of spin-spinspinners! O the carking cares! O the money

grubbers! Sempiternal muckworms!

Your Virgil I have lost sight of, but suspect it is in the hands of Sir G. Beaumont; I think that circumstance made me shy of procuring it before. Will you write to him about it?—and your commands shall be obeyed to a tittle.

Coleridge has just finished his prize Essay, by which, if it get the prize, he'll touch an additional 1007. I fancy. His book, too, (" Commentary on Bishop Leighton,") is quite finished, and penes Taylor and Hessey.

In the "London" which is just out (1st May), are two papers entitled the "Superannuated Man," which I wish you to see; and also, 1st April, a little thing called "Barbara S—," a story gleaned from Miss Kelly. The L. M., if you can get it, will save my enlargement upon the topic of my manumission.

I must scribble to make up my hiatus crumenæ ; for there are so many ways, pious and profligate, of getting rid of money in this vast city and suburbs, that I shall miss my THIRDS. But couragio! I despair not. Your kind hint of the cottage was well thrown out, an anchorage for age and school of economy, when necessity comes; but without this latter, I have an unconquerable terror of changing place. It does not agree with us. I say it from conviction; else I do sometimes ruralise in fancy.

Some d-d people are come in, and I must finish abruptly. By d-d, I only meant deuced. 'Tis these suitors of Penelope that make it necessary to

authorize a little for gin and mutton, and such trifles.

Excuse my abortive scribble.

Yours, not in more haste than heart,

C. L.

Love and recollection to all the Wms., Doras,

Maries round your Wrekin.

Mary is capitally well. Do write to Sir G. B.,

for I am shyish of applying to him.

CHAPTER II.

LETTERS OF LAMB'S LAST YEARS, 1825-1834.

How imperfectly the emancipation, so rapturously hailed, fulfilled its promises; how Lamb left Islington for Enfield, and there, after a while, subsided into a lodger; and how, at last, he settled at Edmonton to die, sufficiently appear in the former series of his letters. Those which occupy this chapter, scattered through nine years, have either been subsequently communicated by the kindness of the possessors, or were omitted for some personal reason which has lost its force in time. The following, addressed in 1829 to the Editor, on occasion of his giving to a child the name of "Charles Lamb," though withheld from an indisposition to intrude matters so personal to himself on the reader, may now, on his taking farewell of the subject, find its place.

TO MR. TALFOURD.

DEAR TALFOURd,

You could not have told me of a more friendly thing than you have been doing. I am proud of my namesake. I shall take care never

to do any dirty action, pick pockets, or anyhow get myself hanged, for fear of reflecting ignominy upon your young Chrisom. I have now a motive to be good. I shall not omnis moriar ;-my name borne down the black gulf of oblivion.

I shall survive in eleven letters, five more than Cæsar. Possibly I shall come to be knighted, or more! Sir C. L. Talfourd, Bart. !

Yet hath it an authorish twang with it, which will wear out with my name for poetry. Give him a smile from me till I see him. If you do not drop down before, some day in the week after next I will come and take one night's lodging with you, if convenient, before you go hence. You shall name it. We are in town to-morrow speciali gratiá, but by no arrangement can get up near

you.